Marcus's building. Familiar. Safe.
Noah parked. Sat there.
His phone: 4 missed calls. 11 texts.
He couldn't look. Looked anyway.
All Atlas.
His chest constricted.
Got out. Went to Marcus's door. Knocked.
Marcus opened it immediately. Took one look at Noah's face.
"Jesus, you look hot when you're miserable."
"Don't." Noah pushed past him.
Marcus closed the door. Studied him. "Coffee?"
Noah nodded. Couldn't meet his eyes. Stared at the floor instead.
Marcus moved to the kitchen. Noah collapsed onto the couch. Completely still. Like if he didn't move, it might not be real.
Marcus came back. Two mugs. Set one in front of Noah.
Noah wrapped both hands around it. Stared at the dark liquid.
Marcus sat across from him. Waited.
"It's over." Noah's voice came out hollow. "Everything's over."
"Tell me first. Then we'll decide if it's over."
So Noah told him. The last few weeks. Atlas disappearing. The silence. This morning. The fight. All of it.
His voice stayed flat. Monotone. Like he was reading someone else's story.
Marcus listened. Didn't interrupt.
When Noah finished, Marcus leaned back. "That's—fuck, man. That's breakup stuff usually." He paused. "But given Atlas's family situation, his work—could be something else."
"He won't talk to me." Noah's voice cracked. "I don't know what's happening. I don't know anything."
Marcus leaned forward. "Look. You're here. You can relax. You want to scream? Scream. Break shit? I got plates." He gestured around. "Don't hold it in."
Noah nodded. Barely.
Silence.
Noah's phone lit up in his pocket.
"Check it," Marcus said quietly.
Noah pulled it out. Atlas calling.
He stared at the name. His thumb hovered.
Declined it.
Marcus watched him. "Talk to him when you're not—" He gestured vaguely. "You know. Like this. When you can actually think."
Noah's hands went to his face. His hair fell forward, covering his eyes.
The tears came. Silent at first.
Then his breath hitched. Once. Again.
His shoulders shook. He pressed his palms harder against his eyes—trying to stop it, contain it.
Couldn't.
Everything he'd been holding broke open.
Marcus's footsteps. Door closing. Giving him space.
Noah bent forward. Elbows on his knees. Head in his hands.
The sobs came from somewhere deep. Hurt coming out. Raw and ugly and endless.
His chest heaved. He couldn't breathe right. Didn't care.
Atlas. God, Atlas.
Minutes passed. He didn't count them.
Finally, the shaking stopped. His breathing evened out.
He could think again.
Barely.
Stood. Went to the bathroom.
Cold water. Again. Again. Trying to wash away the evidence.
Stared at himself in the mirror. Eyes red. Swollen. Face blotchy.
Great.
He ran cold water over the back of his neck. Through his hair.
Found a hair tie. Pulled his hair up into a messy bun.
Went back to the living room.
Marcus glanced at him. "Better?"
"Yeah."
"Dude, you look like an anime character with your hair up."
Noah almost smiled. Almost.
Marcus grinned. "What do you want to do? Movie? Video games? Sit here and suffer in silence?"
"Last one."
"Cool." Marcus settled back.
They sat. Quiet. No pressure.
Noah rubbed his chest. The ache wouldn't go away.
After a while, he said, "Can I stay here? Few days?"
"Stay as long as you want." Marcus paused. Grinned. "Just warning you—I have girls over sometimes. Hope that's not weird."
Noah managed a small smile. "Maybe short-term relationships are better anyway."
"Fuck yeah they are." Marcus raised his coffee mug. "No feelings. No bullshit."
Noah didn't respond.
But it was bullshit.
He didn't want easy. He wanted Atlas.
All of it. The pain. The fear. The fighting.
Just—Atlas.
His throat closed again.
His phone lit up. He didn't look.
Knew who it was.
----
Noah fell asleep on Marcus's couch mid-afternoon.
Marcus found him there—curled on his side, face pressed into the cushion.
He grabbed a blanket from the closet. Draped it over him.
Left the room quiet.
---
In the kitchen, Marcus made coffee. The machine hissed.
His phone buzzed on the counter.
Atlas.
Marcus's thumb hovered. Answered.
"Is Noah with you?"
Marcus stopped. "Yeah."
"I'm coming over."
"Don't. Not right now." Marcus kept his voice low. "He's asleep. You both need to calm down first. Then talk."
"How is he?" Atlas's voice was tight.
"How do you think?"
Silence.
Marcus exhaled. "Give him time. Let him breathe a little."
"Okay."
The line went dead.
Marcus set down his phone. Looked at his coffee.
This is a mess.
---
Noah woke to darkness.
His eyes opened. The room was dim—just the hallway light cutting across the floor.
Where—
Marcus's place. Right.
He sat up slowly. The blanket slid off. His body felt stiff.
How long was I asleep?
Stood. Went to the kitchen. Turned on the faucet. Drank straight from it—cold water on his throat.
Wiped his mouth.
Walked back. Sank onto the couch. Shoulders curved forward.
Picked up his phone.
6:47 PM.
Hours. I slept for hours.
The screen lit up—too bright in the dim room.
12 missed calls - Atlas
17 messages - Atlas
Noah scrolled through them.
His thumb stopped on the last message.
Sent: 1:23 PM
Five hours ago.
His jaw tightened. The phone warm in his grip.
Of course. He's probably at work now.
Scrolled to other messages. Logan. Sienna. Work stuff.
Typed quick responses. Brief.
Didn't touch Atlas's messages.
---
Marcus came in. "Hey. You're up."
Noah glanced up. Nodded.
"Feel better?"
Noah's mouth moved. Couldn't call it a smile.
Marcus sat across from him. "Let's eat. What do you want?"
"I'm not hungry."
"Not asking." Marcus pulled out his phone. "Pizza good?"
Noah didn't argue.
Marcus ordered. They waited.
The apartment was quiet. Just the hum of the fridge. The distant sound of traffic outside.
Noah sat hunched. Elbows on his knees. Phone in his hands.
Unlocked it. Atlas's messages again.
1:23 PM.
Locked it. Set it face-down on his thigh.
The pizza arrived twenty minutes later. Marcus brought it to the table.
The smell filled the room.
Noah took a slice. The pizza felt like cardboard in his mouth. He forced himself to swallow.
His stomach turned.
Marcus talked—some ridiculous story about a bad date. Trying to make him laugh.
Noah heard the words. Didn't process them.
Nodded when it seemed right.
Bite. Chew. Swallow. Repeat.
After two slices, he stopped. Set down the crust.
Marcus closed the box. "You good?"
"Yeah."
Lie.
Noah's phone pulled his attention again. The screen lit up in his lap.
He checked it. Atlas's last message still there.
1:23 PM.
His thumb traced the edge of the phone case. Back and forth.
"Beer?" Marcus asked.
"Yeah."
Marcus went to the kitchen. Came back with two bottles.
Noah twisted off the cap. The beer was cold. Sharp. He drank fast—wanted the numbness.
Half gone before he realized.
Opened the second one. Took another drink.
Marcus watched but said nothing.
---
The doorbell rang.
Marcus frowned. "You expecting someone?"
Noah shook his head.
Marcus stood. Went to the door.
Low voices. One too familiar.
No.
The door opened wider.
Atlas stepped inside.
Noah's chest squeezed. Air wouldn't come.
The bottle halfway to his mouth.
Their eyes met.
Noah's heart slammed against his ribs.
He looked away first—down at the beer, his hands, anywhere but Atlas.
The glass cold against his palm. His grip tightened.
Marcus grabbed his phone from the table. "I'll be—outside. You guys—yeah."
He left quick. The door closed hard behind him.
----
Silence.
The lamp cast long shadows across the room.
Atlas moved forward. Sat in the chair across from him.
Noah kept his eyes down. Couldn't look.
"I'm sorry."
Noah lifted his head. Their eyes met across the coffee table.
He looked away. His fingers tightened around the beer bottle.
Atlas leaned forward. Started to speak. Stopped. "It's not—" His hands opened, closed. "Nothing is what you think."
Noah's jaw tightened. He looked up. "What do I think, Atlas?"
"I didn't pull away from you. There's no one else. There was never—"
Noah drank. Long. Set the bottle down. His knuckles white against the green glass.
Stared at the label. Peeling at the corner.
"Don't give me the work excuse."
Silence.
Atlas's breathing changed. Quick. Shallow. His hands gripped his knees until the knuckles blanched.
"I was trying to fix everything." His voice came out rough. "For us. So we could—"
"Us?" Noah's head snapped up. His laugh came out broken. "You think there's still an us?"
The words hit Atlas like a punch. He flinched. Actually flinched.
He can't mean that. He can't.
The room went dead quiet. Just the hum of Marcus's fridge. A car passing outside.
Atlas stood. Fast. Had to move. Walked to the window.
Pressed his palm flat against the glass. Cold. Real.
Noah watched him. The rigid line of his spine. The way his other hand hung at his side, fingers curling, uncurling.
This is really happening. We're really—
Noah took another drink. The beer tasted like nothing.
"I found evidence." Atlas spoke to his reflection in the glass. "Richard and Thomas. What they've been doing. The fraud, the embezzlement. Millions, Noah. They've been—"
"You blackmailed them." Noah's voice came out flat.
Atlas turned. "I made a deal. To protect—"
"And you didn't tell me." Noah stood. Slow. His legs felt weird. Unsteady. "My father. Your father. And I knew nothing."
"I was going to tell you—"
"When?" The word exploded out. "When the fuck were you going to tell me?"
Atlas stepped toward him. "If you knew, they could've hurt you. I couldn't—"
"You couldn't trust me." Noah's voice dropped. Deadly quiet.
"That's not what—"
"What did you think?" Noah's hands spread. Desperate. "That I'd run to Thomas? Warn him? Is that what you—"
"No. Jesus, no—"
"I haven't properly seen you in a month." Noah's voice cracked. He stopped. Pressed his lips together hard.
Breathe. Just breathe.
"One month, Atlas. And if I hadn't—if today I hadn't completely fallen apart—you would've just kept pretending."
He turned his back. Couldn't look at him anymore.
"I was going to tell you. I swear—"
Noah's shoulders shook. Once. He steadied himself. Turned back.
Both their eyes were red now. Wet.
The space between them felt like miles.
"You can't love someone you don't trust."
Atlas crossed the room in three strides. "I was protecting you—"
"Protecting?" Noah stepped back. His back hit the wall. "You call lying protecting?"
"I'm sorry—"
"Stop." Noah's hand came up. Palm out. Then went to his face, pressed against his eyes. Hard. Trying to push the tears back in.
His hand dropped.
"I've been pretending everything was fine." The words came out strangled. "For weeks. You weren't there. And when you were—" His breath hitched. "You looked at me like you were forcing yourself to stay."
"No—" Atlas grabbed him. Pulled him in hard. "God, no. That's not—"
Both of them crying now. Real crying.
Noah's arms stayed at his sides. His whole body rigid.
Don't give in. Don't. You'll break if you give in.
After a long moment he pushed at Atlas's chest. Gentle but firm.
Atlas let go.
Noah wiped his face with the back of his hand. Rough. Angry at the tears.
Turned away.
"I need time."
"We can fix this. Let me fix this—"
"There is no we." Noah's voice came out dead. "You fix everything alone. That's what you do."
Atlas moved in front of him. Cupped his face with both hands. Made him look.
"Please. Look at me. Please."
Noah looked.
His chest hurt. Actually hurt. Like something inside had torn.
I still love you. God help me, I still love you so much it's killing me.
"I told you everything." Noah's voice broke. "Every stupid, meaningless thing. I told you about my day, my meetings, what I had for lunch. Every. Single. Thing." He couldn't breathe right. "But you—you couldn't tell me the one thing that actually mattered."
He took Atlas's hands. Slow. Careful.
Removed them from his face.
Stepped to the side. Away.
Atlas stood there. His lip caught between his teeth. Bit down. Drew blood.
I'm losing him. Right now. I'm watching him leave and I can't—
"There's nothing left to say," Noah said.
"There is. I need to—"
"What?" Noah looked at him. "What's left?"
Atlas's mouth opened. Nothing came out.
His hands hung useless at his sides.
"I'm sorry." Barely a whisper. "I'm so fucking sorry."
Noah looked down at the floor. The worn carpet. A stain by his foot.
"I know you are."
"Then—"
"It doesn't change anything." Noah looked up. Met his eyes. "I'm exhausted, Atlas. Completely empty."
"Of what?" Atlas's voice cracked. "Tell me what—"
Noah walked away. Just walked. Stopped in the middle of the room. Nowhere to go.
"At first you were angry. About something. I never knew what." He rubbed his chest. Like he could stop the ache. "You'd shut me out. Pull away. I'd lie awake trying to figure out what I did wrong."
He turned to the window. The street below. Orange streetlights. Empty sidewalk.
"Then you'd give me some excuse. Work. Stress. Whatever. And I'd believe you. Every time." His reflection stared back at him. Ghost-like. "And you'd do it again. And again. Always another wall."
He touched the glass. Cold.
"I can't do this anymore. I can't be with someone who doesn't trust me."
"Don't say that—"
Tears ran down Noah's face. He didn't wipe them this time. Just let them fall.
Atlas came up behind him.
Slowly. Like approaching something that might bolt.
His arms slid around Noah's waist. Gentle. Trembling.
He kissed Noah's neck. Soft. His tears fell hot onto Noah's skin.
Noah closed his eyes.
Please stop. Please don't make this harder. I can't—
They stood there. The window showed them both—Atlas holding on like drowning, Noah standing like stone.
"Let's give each other time," Noah whispered. "Just—time."
"I don't want time away from you." Atlas's voice broke against his ear. "I want—fuck, I just want you. I want us. I love you so much I can't—"
Noah felt Atlas's heart slamming against his back.
His own heart racing to match it.
He pulled himself together. Took Atlas's hands. Removed them gently from his waist.
Stepped away.
Turned around.
They faced each other.
"Later," Noah said. "We'll talk later when we're—"
"Now." Atlas's voice came out desperate. "Talk to me now. Tell me what you need. I'll do anything. I'll—"
"I need to be alone." Noah met his eyes. "Right now I just need to be alone."
"Alone." Atlas repeated it. Like testing the weight of the word.
Noah couldn't answer. His throat had closed completely.
"I did that." Atlas's voice came out hollow. "I made you that lonely."
Noah walked to the window. Leaned his forehead against it. The glass cool against his skin.
Put his hands in his pockets because they wouldn't stop shaking.
Couldn't trust his voice yet.
"I'm sorry." Atlas's voice from behind him. Broken. "God, Noah, I'm so—"
"Stop apologizing." Noah's voice came out flat. "It's too late for sorry."
"Don't—"
Atlas moved beside him. Leaned on the window too. His shoulder pressed against Noah's.
Neither moved away.
"Please." Atlas turned his head. Noah felt his eyes. "Please forgive me."
Noah kept staring out at nothing.
"Look at me."
"Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Look at me like that. Like—" Noah stopped. Couldn't explain.
Like you love me.
Silence filled the space between them. Heavy. Suffocating.
"I'm staying here," Noah said finally. "At Marcus's. For a while."
Atlas went rigid. Every muscle locked.
"Why?" The word came out sharp. Scared.
"You know why."
Atlas grabbed his hand. Held it tight. Too tight.
"Stay with me. Please. We'll work through this together. I'll—"
Noah looked at their hands. Atlas's knuckles white. Desperate.
He pulled away. Slow. Like it hurt.
It did hurt.
"I tried." Noah's voice shook. "So many times I tried to talk to you. And you shut me down every time. Now you want to talk? Now when I'm—"
He stopped. Looked at the door.
"Marcus is outside. Let's not—"
"Come home with me." Atlas stepped in front of him. Blocking his path. "Please come home."
"No."
If I leave now, I'll never see him again. If I walk out that door—
Atlas kissed him.
Hard. Desperate. Poured everything into it—every apology, every plea, every broken piece of himself.
Noah felt it all. The fear. The love. The desperation.
Almost gave in. Almost kissed back. Almost—
No. Can't. If I give in now I'll never—
He pulled away.
"Please." Atlas's hands cupped his face. His fingers trembling. "Come with me. I'll fix everything. I swear I'll—"
Noah looked into his eyes.
Those eyes that used to feel like home.
"No."
"Then I'll stay." Atlas's voice came out frantic. "Here. I'll stay here with you. I don't care. I'll—"
Noah almost smiled. Sad. Broken. "You're not okay."
"I love you."
Atlas kissed him again. Hungry. Trying to make him feel it. Trying to make him stay.
Stop. Please stop. I can't think when you touch me like—
Noah's hands came up. Pushed gently at his chest.
"Please." His voice barely made it out. "We both need time. Please give us that."
"How long?" Atlas's grip tightened. "How long do you need?"
"I don't know." Noah's eyes filled again. "I'll call you when I'm ready. I promise."
Atlas pulled him close. Crushed him against his chest. Like if he held tight enough Noah couldn't leave.
Noah let his head rest there. One last time.
Atlas's heart pounding wild under his ear.
Atlas kissed his hair. Once. Twice. Three times. Four. Like he was counting them. Memorizing.
This is goodbye. This feels like goodbye.
"You have to go now," Noah whispered.
Atlas pulled back. Looked at him.
His eyes desperate. Shining.
"Please don't give up on us."
Noah couldn't answer. Couldn't promise. Couldn't lie.
He walked to the door. Atlas followed like a shadow.
Noah's hand on the doorknob.
Atlas pulled him back. One more time.
Wrapped his arms around him from behind. Buried his face in Noah's neck.
Kissed him there. Lingering. Desperate.
Then his temple. His forehead.
Turned him around.
Kissed his mouth. Soft this time. Gentle. Like a goodbye.
Noah stood still. Frozen.
His arms hung at his sides.
Couldn't kiss back. If I kiss you back I'll never let you leave. And you have to leave. We both need—
"I love you." Atlas's voice cracked. "I love you so much."
Noah opened the door.
Met Atlas's eyes. One last time.
Atlas stepped through.
Stopped. Looked back.
Noah closed the door.
---
He stood there. Hand still on the knob. Like if he held on tight enough the world would stop spinning.
His legs gave out.
He sank down right there. Back against the door. Knees pulled up.
Tried to breathe.
Couldn't.
His chest too tight. Like someone was sitting on it.
"Calm down." His voice came out strangled. "Calm down. Calm—"
He couldn't finish.
The crying started. Real crying. Ugly sobbing he couldn't control.
He pulled his knees tighter. Buried his face.
Why does loving you hurt this much? Why can't I just stop? Why can't I—
Atlas's cologne still on his clothes. In his hair. On his skin.
Everywhere.
He could still feel Atlas's hands on his face. His lips on his neck.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He knew who it was.
Didn't look.
The crying wouldn't stop.